


Gold and Red

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Rival Kingdoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: The King of Hyperion receives a "gift" from the rival realm of Atlas.





	Gold and Red

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for a royal type AU where Hyperion and Atlas are rival kingdoms, and Rhys is given as a gift to the king of Hyperion in order to curry his favor. Enjoy!

Jack knew exactly what the Atlas ambassadors expected him to do with the omega they brought into his throne room. Jack had enough experience dealing with their condescension, barely masked by sycophantic words of praise and arbitration, to understand what they meant when they presented the young man standing obediently between them as a “gift” to the King of Hyperion.

Thanks to his own spies, Jack knew exactly how the Atlas propaganda machine functioned. How all those of low and high blood alike in the enemy kingdom conceived of Hyperion’s denizens as brutish and vile—especially its alphas, and  _especially_  its apex king. Presenting an omega as a gift, to them, was akin to sending him off to the gallows.

Safe to say, Atlas didn’t think all that highly of him.

So Jack sat, slouched on his throne, propping his cheek up with a lazily curled fist as he listened to the ambassadors snidely flourish on, suppressing his mounting anger through twitches in his fingers. As much as he wanted to toss the whole Atlas entourage out of his kingdom, he’d get blasted by Tassiter later if he flaunted royal decorum in such a flagrant fashion.  _Ugh_. He figured once he became king he wouldn’t have been beholden to anyone else, but he still had to answer to dub advisors who waggled fingers at him if he strangled too many assholes.  _Such_  crap.

His blood boiled way too much when he looked at either advisor, so instead he fixed his attention on the omega standing stiffly between them. Honestly, he wasn’t too bad looking. To Atlas’ credit, they’d actually bothered to pick an attractive omega to ply him with, rather than slapping powder and rouge on some raggedy thing in an attempt to pass them off as upper-class. Though Jack doubted Atlas would sacrifice someone of high blood to give an omega plaything to the king of Hyperion, at least they’d chosen someone Jack wouldn’t kick out of bed.

Though he looked a bit too tall for the typical omega, his neck sloped beautifully from the gentle curve of his jaw, pooling against the high white collar encircling him throat like clouds drawn around a mountaintop. His clothing fell out beneath him in glorious robes, bright and pure save the occasional splash and stroke of red hems and golden chains. Jack’s nostrils twitched around his smell—obviously perfumed vanilla and lavender, but pleasant nonetheless.

His long fingers clasped over his stomach beneath a belt of gold and red stones, and though he kept his chin lowered in a slight bow of submission, Jack could see something different in his eyes, even at a distance. Maybe it was the strike of blue in the left iris, standing out from the regalia of red and white and gold chosen by those who kept him. It drew Jack like a beacon, a lighthouse standing out against a thrashing storm building onto the shore.

“So, what say you, Your Majesty?” The ambassador spoke louder, as if sensing Jack’s shift in attention. “Do you accept this humble gift of Atlas?”

Jack wouldn’t exactly describe the presentation of such a lavishly dressed, sweetly-smelling omega  _humble_ , but he understood throwing this “gift” back into Atlas’ face might not be the best thing for the relations between the two kingdoms. And while Jack had spent many a night dreaming about plundering all of Atlas’ vast mines and rumored richly lavished tombs, his military might still had room to grow.

So he’d play along  _for now_.

“Uh, yeah. Consider it accepted.” Jack waved his hand, watching as the ambassadors fell away from the omega in the middle with a cloying bow of concession. He saw one of their mouths move, undoubtedly speaking to the omega as he strode forward. Each step echoed around the silent throne room, drawing Jack’s attention to the high white boots clicking out purposefully from under the hem of the omega’s robe. The heels were painted red, glossy and wet like the omega had stepped through a pool of blood to get to the king’s knees.

“Thank you for accepting me, Your Majesty,” the omega spoke as he bowed low before Jack’s throne, one long leg skirting out in front of him. Jack’s lip curled at the rote motion and delivery, though the ambassador’s seemed pleased at their trained gift performing his duty. Jack still wished he could toss them out of his presence, but he settled for rising, cloak unfurling down his back as he clapped his hands together in dismissal. He saw the omega bowed before him flinch, which made his lip only curl further in annoyance.

“Enough. Your king wishes to retire for the evening.” Jack waved off the ambassadors, leaving Tassiter and his other advisors to see to the proper goodbyes as he swept off to his chambers, his new omega starting before following in his wake.

* * *

The look of surprise that passed the omega’s face when Jack opened the door to the guest chambers didn’t escape the king’s notice. The young man struggled, lips slightly parted as he glanced furtively from Jack to the humble quarters. The king waited to see if he’d speak up, but the omega only settled for biting his lip. With a terse sigh, Jack answered the obvious.

“You’re right, kiddo. These aren’t  _my_  bedchambers.” He couldn’t stop the disgust from hanging onto his words. “Listen. I’m no fool. Those Atlas curs didn’t bring you over here to play bridge and take long walks in the garden.”

The omega said nothing, keeping his head bowed. Jack huffed, lifting his hand to clap him on the shoulder when he remembered the flinch from earlier.

“Lemme just say, I’m not interested in screwing an omega that obviously doesn’t wanna be here. Who’s too scared of me to say no. But I’m  _also_  not gonna let them take you back to their crappy, Hyperion-hating hellhole, so as far as I’m concerned you live here now. Got it?”

The omega lifted his head slightly, and while the confusion on his face still bugged the hell out of Jack, he eventually gave the king a slight nod. He lowered his hand and settled for a careful pat to the omega’s forearm that, thankfully, didn’t result in a flinch this time, though the young man still didn’t meet his eyes.

“All right. I’ll send a servant up in a moment to make sure you’re all settled in. They’ll also be sure to summon you for supper later. You’ll be dining with me tonight. Fair?”

Another nod. It seemed Jack wouldn’t get much out of the omega at the moment, so with little else to say he took his leave, closing the door behind him as he strode off down the hallway towards his own bedchambers, mind swimming.

Jack refused to prove Atlas right, no matter how attractive this omega looked, no matter how lovely and natural his scent smelled beneath the false perfumes he’d been sprayed with. And besides— _any_  thick-headed alpha could forcibly submit an omega, could take advantage of a poor pawn trained to take the abuse of a foreign king.

It would take a  _real_  apex to win this one’s heart.


End file.
